After the Morning After by Lisa G Riley Page B

with family roots in West Bengal or Bangladesh, but as long as his family is from somewhere in India, you would not have minded. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you and make you give up all your hopes and dreams for me, but Mommy, Daddy, I like girls—a lot, so much so that I let one move in with me.’”
     
    Despite the serious subject matter, Sanjay grinned. She was right; their parents would see things exactly that way. They’d think she was ruining her life and theirs. “Don’t forget the part about grandchildren.”
    “Please! I don’t even want to think about that! Well, at least you can help me there. You’ll continue the line for them.” She moaned and covered her face. “God, Jay, they’re going to totally disown me!”
    But Sanjay was no longer listening. He would continue the line, yes, but he wanted to continue the line with Victoria, and he knew that his parents would not like that at all. She wasn’t Indian, and he could be totally wrong, but he highly doubted that she practiced Hinduism.
    “What’s the matter, Jay?” Bhavani asked, studying his pensive frown. “Is it what I said about you carrying on the Banerjee line? ’Cause if it is, you gotta know that I was joking. Well…I actually wasn’t, but if it bothers you, I won’t bring it up—”
    Sanjay cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Vonnie. It isn’t that, not precisely, anyway.”
    “Then what is it? Precisely?”
    Sanjay sighed. He and his sister were two years apart and had been close all their lives. He felt that he could tell her just about anything, and he knew she felt the same way about him. “You were right earlier. I did cancel on you last night because of a woman.”
    “I knew it,” Bhavani said with an arrogant toss of her long black curly hair. She grinned, and a dimple peeked out from one cheek while her black eyes sparkled mischievously. “I’m never wrong about these things. Again, who is she, and do I know her?”
    “Her name is Dr. Victoria Howell, and I don’t know —do you know her?”
    “The name’s not familiar, no. And it doesn’t sound Indian either,” she said slowly. “I don’t suppose she’s at least Indian-American or, better yet, Bengali-American?”
    Sanjay hid a grin at the faintly hopeful note in her voice and shook his head as he continued to fold his clothes. “Nope, ’fraid not.”
    Bhavani flopped back in the chair. “Shit, Jay; not you too! I don’t know how Mom and Dad will ever recover.” She covered her face with her hands and spoke through them. “It took me several years to convince them that I’m not going to be a burden because I became a paralegal instead of going into one of the science fields, but I did it. But this…this is going to kill them. Both of their children involved with people who are neither Indian nor Hindu, and throw in that lovely little curve about mine being a girl, and well, jeez, Jay, we’ve just about got ourselves a perfect storm!”
    Sanjay frowned. Unfortunately, his sister was not exaggerating. Despite having lived in America for thirty-five years and having birthed both of their children here, his parents were traditional Bengali in both thought and deed.
    “What are we going to do, Jay?” Bhavani wailed.
    “Tell them the truth and deal with the fallout,” Sanjay told her. He looked at the last item in his basket. “Ah, so you’re the culprit,” he muttered and picked up a pair of now bleach-streaked purple boxers, which had been a gift from an ex-girlfriend.
    “I don’t understand how you can be so calm.”
    “I have to be,” he explained. “Mom and Dad will be upset enough for all of us; somebody has to keep a cool head. And besides, I want this relationship, so there’s no point in getting upset when I’m going to do what I want to do anyway.”
    “Are you so willing that you’ll introduce your new girlfriend to Mom and Dad when they come in for Maha Shivaratri in a couple of weeks?” she